Too Young For Nostalgia: The Eternal Emo of Harrison Gordon

SELF-RELEASED

Harrison Gordon is a band. Harrison Gordon is a man and a band… He’s a man with a band… The band is his name, but his name is also the band. Get it? Harrison Gordon is a dude with a band called Harrison Gordon. Harrison Gordon (the dude and the band) both rock.

Just to level-set, Harrison Gordon is textbook “Dudes Rock” music, just on a sonic level. The college-age rocker is up there with bands like Japandrdoids and Jeff Rosenstock in terms of boisterous shout-along, full-steam-ahead rock and roll. These are bands who all know when to bust out a well-timed “WOO!” or throw to a guitar solo. These are songs with plenty of group chants and opportunities for finger-pointing in a live setting, which is great because that energy is prime Dudes Rock territory. Sometimes, there’s nothing more healing than shouting along to a song, covered in sweat, and clutching a beer. It’s kinda my favorite way to see a band, which is great because despite sounding like the bands above, you’re much more likely to catch Harrison Gordon in your local bar or a sweaty basement than anything else. In fact, he’s a bit known for capturing that DIY vibe. 

@harrisongordon_il you know it smelled crazy in there. big thanks for over 200k streams on “Kirby Down B” btw :D #diyemo #basementshow #houseshow #midwestemo #hotmulligan #thefrontbottoms #joycemanor ♬ original sound - harrisongordon_il

This video, which currently sits at 1.8 million views, is just some shaky iPhone footage of a DIY concert in a dimly lit Midwest basement. The ceiling is adorned with Christmas lights (of course), and the whole room is awash in a blue/pink glow, feeling very bisexual lighting. The caption reads, “you're in some random basement and this bridge kicks in.” Sure, it's a little on the nose, but it’s TikTok, and premises are allowed. Harrison Gordon, the dude, sings, and an army of kids offscreen shout along:

i sold my childhood wii
for $30
double A batteries
i′m too young for nostalgia

The chorus (admittedly pretty grounded in the late aughts) continues with the same melody and lays the pop-culture references on thick. 

miss watching dragon ball Z
playing all the zelda’s
miss spamming kirby's down B
i′m too young for nostalgia

With each line, Gordon makes a new reference to a TV show or video game, stringing together a series of IP rhymes designed to pull at the heartstrings of your inner nerd. It’s geeky as fuck, but it’s earnest, and when the camera whips around to show the rest of the basement shouting and bouncing along, you immediately want to join in. Sure, his lyrics are nostalgic bait made to hook someone with intimate knowledge of Kirby’s move set in Super Smash Bros., but on the other hand, I AM THAT PERSON, so of course the bait worked. As the sea of college kids stand shoulder to shoulder, forming waves as they bounce up and down, the next lines are sure to make anyone over the age of 25 feel old. 

we’ll im just complaining
wasting all my time
just wish I could get back to 2009

Told ya it was gonna make you feel old. Nostalgia? For 2009?? You’ve gotta be kidding me! We were still coming out of a recession! We had just come off a writer strike! Mainstream culture was at an all-time low, Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen was actively terrorizing us in theaters! What I’m saying is while it’s hard for me to romanticize 2009, for someone, like, five to ten years younger than me, it was a landmark year. In fact, maybe even a great one. 

The good thing is Harrison Gordon is still self-aware enough to call out that line. What’s great about a line like “too young for nostalgia” is it’s an admission and a self-own, but it’s also a catchy chorus, and Gordon knows it. Despite being rooted in 2009, the references are deployed in a way that evokes a sort of evergreen nostalgia. They call back to an age when you and your friends could spend hours running around while debating Vegeta’s power level or strategizing how to beat the next part of a Zelda game you’ve been stuck on. It’s kinda the same energy as the “Is Fortnite Actually Overrated?” meme, but acknowledging the genuinely pure and enthusiastic nature at its core. Harrison Gordon recognizes this truth, wields it, and strikes.

Sure, the specific references may not carry to everyone, but I’ll be damned if I’m not among the target audience. To me, these lines very powerfully evoke a sort of timeless fandom. The specifics may change, but the feeling of passing along video game strategies on the playground and writing out hand-drawn cheat codes feels much more universal. It’s an easy age to romanticize, but that doesn’t make it any less powerful. 

Harrison Gordon (the man)

Throughout the rest of his music, Harrison Gordon is supremely college-aged. He writes lyrics about the monotony of attending class and feeling like his degree is a waste. He also talks a worrying amount about drinking beer and smoking cigarettes, basically all the shared experiences, feelings, and sentiments for someone at the ass-end of college. What’s impressive is how well he’s able to transport you to that respective era of your life, regardless of what age you find yourself listening to the album at. 

Harrison Gordon presents all these findings in the aforementioned Rosenstock shout but also shows clear reverence for bands like Prince Daddy & The Hyena and Worst Party Ever. Both “I am happy” and album closer “Ginger Ale” sound like they could be slotted in anywhere on Anthology among any of Andy Schueneman’s acoustic fare. But let’s zip back to the top of the record, which, in a ballsy move, begins with its title track, “The Yuppies Are Winning.”

The whole record kicks off with a slow-bobbing guitar riff that lilts back and forth drunkenly. It sounds like we’re picking up right where a dramatic Titus Andronicus album closer would finish. Just think about “The Battle of Hampton Roads” and imagine what comes after. What happens after the dust settles and we’re left half-winded and half-drunk at the end of the story? Harrison Gordon (the man) approaches the mic and sets the stakes in a theatrical fashion.

Well, rent’s six hundred dollars
And gas is up to five
So, if you end up getting sick
I guess you'll just have to die

A chorus of “whoa’s” and “nah nah nah’s” follow behind Gordon, accompanied by a glockenspiel that feels like it’s making direct eye contact with Prince Daddy & The Hyena’s “***HIDDEN TRACK***​​”

And man, I don't know what to think now
Is it worth sticking around?
I'd have a better carbon footprint
When I'm six feet underground

Then he belts out the name of the album, singing: 

The yuppies are winning
We're fucked this time

It’s a dire message that anyone should identify with on some level. The feeling that the Bad Guys are winning has never been stronger than it is now. By the end of the song, you’ll be screaming along to one of Gordon’s strongest hypotheticals as he asks, “Did I ever even burn that bright?”

Harrison Gordon (the band)

One of the commenters on the above-linked TikTok, who went by the name stoneraleks81, remarked of Gordon, “dude looks like he can build you a computer and replace a transmission, but sounds like a sad angel. Beautiful.” Harrison Gordon, talking from behind a profile picture of Appa from Avatar: The Last Airbender, responds, “this made me tear up bro you’re a modern poet.” Once again, I must say, dudes fucking rock.

But that commenter was right; Gordon is a stocky dude with a strong build. I’ll put it this way: he looks just like he sounds. You can even hear a bit of hardcore flavor when a gang vocal pops up midway through “BLEACH,” and it just makes you want to throw yourself up against someone. There’s also a delivery or two on “things will get worse” that make me sneer like whenever Josh Martin gets the mic in a Wonder Years song. Did you see the video of the Drug Church guitarist taking off his own instrument to dive into the crowd during his own band’s song? It all feels like that. 

Just like Chris Pratt in Parks and Recreation, Gordon isn’t afraid to lean into the bit and make an ass out of himself for fun. He has a similar build to Sam Kless of Just Friends and Mom Jeans, just a touch more kawaii. Online, you might see some self-aware shitposts or a picture of the frontman in a maid’s outfit attached to a message tagging emo rippers TRSH. He’s self-aware and makes good rock music, a Jack Black phenotype for the ages. 

There are plenty of other electrifying moments on The Yuppies are Winning, like a group chant at the end of “SNOT” or the Classic Emo WOO! That kicks off “things will get worse.” The mid-album cut “Excedrin” proves that you gotta know when to start the song with a guitar solo; it’s a power move, but absolutely rips when done right. 

“The Next Great American Spirit Strikes Back!” is a song that captures the pure emotional and physical recklessness of a mid-20-something. It’s the pseudo-heart of the album, the point where things are most matter-of-fact and frank, the same way one might feel halfway through a six-pack at a basement show. 

“cigs inside” is another song about leaning into your worst impulses. Unlike the hyper 2009-ism of his hit song, “cigs inside” poses a timeless question that every young adult has to ask themselves, but Gordon manages to keep it broad and universal. The only specifics here are student loans, Polaroid pictures, and unwashed sheets. The title feels like it’s already fulfilled its destiny, emblazoned on hats in a Budweiser logo rip that feel like they’re poised to become an iconic merch item.

By the time you’re finished with “cigs inside?” you get dumped off into the emphatic “OI! OI! OI!” of “Kirby Down B,” and we’re right where we started off. 

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At a few different points while writing this, I was hesitant to even mention the virality of “Kirby Down B” because that’s not the point. A good song is a good song regardless of whether it racks up a million views on TikTok or not. I was similarly hesitant to make so many comparisons between Gordon and other bands like Jeff Rosenstock and Prince Daddy. As an artist, I could see how it could get tiring after a while to constantly be told what you sound like, or perhaps even diminutive to suggest that you’re only an echo of someone else’s work. Luckily, Harrison Gordon, the man and the band, both rock. 

One of the main reasons I like that video of “Kirby” is that it so clearly displays the way that music like this can scale. Sure, the song sounds kick-ass on the record; it’s a great recording with tons of energy, and I spent like a month listening to it every day. In that TikTok video though, you get such a different version of the song. You get to hear the same words backed by a chorus of 20-some other people singing along. Sure, it’s off-key and probably a little slurred, but does that really matter more than the cumulative effect that basement full of people has? I don’t think so. To be one of those voices is a divine experience, and that’s why I love music like this. It can stand on its own and thrive but also be lifted up by the same people who connect with it, becoming genuinely communal and connective in the process. 

I may not be as nostalgic for 2009 as Harrison Gordon, but his music makes me feel that way, and I believe that’s the true magic inherent in emo music. This genre is inherently reflective and self-conscious, and when you’re a teen, it just feels affirmative to hear someone else struggle with those same things. Once you find yourself on the other side of that phase of your life, it can be just as rewarding to look back on that time and remember all those feelings from afar. When listening to Harrison Gordon, I finally feel like I’m on the other side of that. It's not like I’ve “grown up” past the genre; it's more like I’m viewing someone else’s nostalgia from the opposite side of adulthood. To me, that’s proof you’re never too old for nostalgia.

Mister Goblin – Frog Poems | Album Review

Spartan Records

Growing up, I was always too scared to download music illegally. Because of this, a large chunk of my iTunes library was ripped from CDs that I had borrowed either from my older brother or from the public library (I’m not sure about the legality of ripping the latter, but there were no commercials telling me not to do it, so I figured it was fine). Most of the time, I was just grabbing CDs with no real concept of what was on them; as a middle schooler, my depth of music knowledge was pretty shallow, and I was mostly interested in ripping as many things as possible so that I could brag about how many songs I had on my iPod. 

During this period there were two CDs that really stood out to me, both taken from my brother. One was The Vines’ 2002 album Highly Evolved. The other was a mixtape made for him by an old girlfriend that was a sampler of hits from poppier 90s alternative bands like Toad the Wet Sprocket and Better than Ezra. On Highly Evolved, I fell in love with the aggression of The Vines, and on the mixtape, I fell in love with the melodic hooks and great pop songwriting on tracks like “All I Want” and “The Freshman”. 

I thought back on both of these CDs frequently while listening to Frog Poems, the fourth album from Mister Goblin. Throughout Frog Poems, you find the kind of well-crafted melodies and arrangements that helped make bands like Toad the Wet Sprocket and The Wallflowers radio mainstays throughout the 90s, but with an edge that those groups lacked. There are plenty of bands around right now that pull from this era of alternative, but the way that Mister Goblin mixes these influences with heavier elements taken from post-hardcore and Braid-era emo means what they’re putting out isn’t something you’ve heard before.

The album’s third track, “The Notary,” is a song that stood out to me immediately. It starts with a driving but controlled full band sound before falling away, a softer drumbeat acting as the backdrop for a subdued guitar lead and mellow bass. “I want to be a notary,” bandleader Sam Goblin sings, “so somebody somewhere will always need me.” Goblin continues to opine on the desire to be essential as the song builds back to the intensity of the beginning through its hook before falling away again, leading us into another verse and then another build, this time surpassing where we started.

I’ve always loved songs like this that build, fall away, and then build again; the alternating periods of restraint and outburst make you appreciate each section more than you would with a less dynamic structure. When your songs are as well put together as the ones on Frog Poems, each vocal line and instruments’ part is strong enough to stand alone in this type of deconstruction; “Goodnight Sun,” “Grown Man,” and “Lost Data” all follow a similar path, though the peaks and valleys differ from track to track, which means things never get stale.

Another highlight of Frog Poems that comes through both in production and arrangements are the vocal harmonies. Throughout the softer section of the album harmonies, especially those punching through in the higher register, do as much to contribute to the songs’ depth and width as anything else in the mix.  One place this happens is “Mike Shinoda”, a spooky Halloween-themed song about indecision that erupts into fractals of harmony during the final third of the track. The higher harmonies remind me a bit of Nicole Johnson’s vocal work on early Modest Mouse songs like “Head South” and “Interstate 8,” becoming essential without overtaking or diminishing the lead vocals. 

When things get heavier on songs like “Run, Hide, Fight” and “Open Up This Pit,” Mister Goblin show that they can deliver fierce sledgehammer power just as adeptly as they can work with reserved finesse. It’s these sections of the album that reminded me of listening to Highly Evolved on the bus home from school and just letting the power and grit wash over me. Sonically, these tracks are far removed from other songs on the record, like the mellow “Goodnight Sun” or the alt-country-tinged “Saw V,” but rather than result in an uneven listening experience, these half-shade genre explorations only make the band's vision feel more singular. If Mister Goblin are a baseball player, they’re prime Yu Darvish: they have a ton of different pitches in their arsenal, and they throw them all well.

Often, when someone is putting together songs with eclectic influences, you can see the stitches; a verse might clearly be “the grunge part” before transitioning into a chorus that is “the pop-punk part.” There’s nothing wrong with this, and it can be fun to see different styles that someone clearly loves set right next to each other in one track, but what I think makes Frog Poems unique is that each song’s mixed influences have been fully incorporated to create new sounds that stand on their own as more than the sum of their parts. The result is an album that feels like a continuation of the music that came before it rather than an homage, a new must-read chapter written in the neverending story of alternative rock.  

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Josh Ejnes is a writer and musician living in Chicago. You can keep up with his writing on music and sports on Twitter and listen to his band Cutaway Car here.

Water Damage – In E | Album Review

12XU

Water Damage make music that feels like it was concocted in a tonal laboratory exclusively for me. Their core discography up to this point has spanned five songs between two albums, 2022’s self-descriptive Repeater and 2023’s quantifiably titled 2 Songs. Their mantra is simple: “Maximal repetition. Minimal deviation.” The ever-rotating collective creates murky, album-side-length tracks that zone in on a singular riff or groove and ride it until it mutates or decays. They employ tactics that draw me so heavily to bands like Seattle’s drone-country legends Earth or Japan’s “underground freak out” collective Acid Mothers Temple. I’m no geography expert, but somewhere between Seattle and Japan must lie Austin, Texas, the home base for the members of Water Damage. The band appears to be the next installment of an already-incestuous scene of musicians, some of whom are already spread across fellow 12XU artists like Spray Paint and USA/Mexico. Most notably, Water Damage features multi-instrumentalist Thor Harris, who has played with Shearwater, Swans, and Xiu Xiu, among many others. The band’s first two albums were made in a seven-piece permutation, but they’ve now grown to ten members strong for their latest release, the massive double album In E.

Other than the semi-eponymous track titles (“Reel E,” “Reel EE,” and “Reel EEE”), the album title is a nod to Terry Riley’s 1964 landmark composition In C, one of the most celebrated works in experimental music. Unreleased until 1968, the initial In C performance and recording is a hypnotic, minimalist piece of neo-classical layers and rhythms. In C's first cut was made up of eleven players, with Riley’s orchestra featuring such avant-garde pioneers as Pauline Oliveros and Steve Reich, though Riley is quoted as suggesting, “a group of about 35 musicians is desired if possible.” In C has been re-interpreted by many experimental artists, from the aforementioned Acid Mothers Temple to the Swiss industrial cult group The Young Gods. It’s precisely the type of root that a band like Water Damage is well suited to pull from, being a relatively large band obsessed with long-winded, single-key grooves.

The only composition named differently is the closer “Ladybird,” which has featured performance and writing credits by Water Damage-associated band Shit & Shine. It actually is a minor break from the rest of the album’s mold, with the grounding riff being an E to F bent repetition. It’s also Water Damage’s first song to feature vocals, as garbled and affected as they are, but it was refreshing to hear them throw some new sounds at the listener after listening to an hour’s worth of intentionally consistent music.

It’s amusing to think about there being a “single” from this album; I suppose a better term may be “teaser,” although if The Decemberists can kick off their album rollout with a 19-minute, Wilco-aping prog-folk number, then Water Damage certainly has the capability and freedom to let “Reel E” be the “hit” off of this record. There’s a rich history of opening tracks on leftfield albums becoming genre staples: “Hallogallo” from the self-titled NEU! debut comes to mind, or more recently, “John L” by black midi off Cavalcade. “Reel E” isn’t too far from standard Water Damage fare, and is exactly what I come to the band to get: a swirling lo-fi jam with subtle progressions until its finish. The main noticeable change from last year’s 2 Songs is that the violin is featured much more prominently, almost like a lead instrument, whereas their previous recordings seemed to use it as an accent. Additionally, the presence of three extra members is clearly identifiable. These tracks have just that extra ounce of big room collaboration to them that round out the band’s sound even more than the first two albums.

The second song, “Reel EE,” anchors itself to a steady bass riff before angry beehive-sounding guitars explode around the three-and-a-half-minute mark. Their thick tone allows for lots of screeching feedback to compliment the track. From that point on, it’s non-stop, head-bobbing, heavy psych. It’s almost like a slightly friendlier version of The Dead C, another pioneering noise rock outfit known for their elongated recordings.

Finally, there's “Reel EEE,” and at this point, I could see some listeners considering tapping out. Water Damage does not make conventional music for conventional people, it’s one of the things that makes them one of my favorite bands of the decade. But even I’ll admit that is a lot of the key of E to handle in one sitting. I remember the only time I saw Sleep in concert and thinking, “Man, I love drop C tuning, but these motherfuckers REALLY love drop C tuning.” Despite the common anti-melodic structure between each track on In E, Water Damage serves identifiable flavors per reel. “Reel EEE” lives in ¾ time and relies more on that entrancing rhythm than it does squealingly heavy guitars or tons of feedback.

In E is a welcome addition to the Water Damage catalog, as it retains the energy of their first two albums while still trying a new challenge, aiming for an over 80-minute runtime. It may not be particularly exciting to those with short attention spans, but if you’re willing to be roped into their singularly notated world, it’s a high-rewarding listening experience. Here’s to hoping their next record is three LPs worth of entirely noteless instruments.

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Logan Archer Mounts once almost got kicked out of Warped Tour for doing the Disturbed scream during a band’s acoustic set. He currently lives in Rolling Meadows, IL, but tells everyone he lives in Palatine.

Kill Gosling – Waster | EP Review

We’re Trying Records

My first sentence for this piece was supposed to be something to the effect of "I'm writing this review at a Kill Gosling show," but I got too caught up watching the set, and that sentence wound up being the only thing I wrote down. 

So instead, I'm writing this a few weeks after the last time I saw Kill Gosling, a Columbus-based band who are increasingly hard to pin down. A year ago, I would've described them as a pop-punk band; six months ago, I would have said ‘emo riff powerhouse.’ Pulling back to that recent performance, vocalist Chandler let the crowd know that they were about to see 20 to 30 minutes of "normal rock music," and even that still feels inaccurate to me. Over the past two years, I've had the privilege to witness and share the stage with Kill Gosling, and during that time, the scope of their sound has only increased. I walk away from every set positive that they've outdone themselves, and I'm not sure I've ever been wrong about that. 

Today sees the release of Waster, the band's second EP and their most fully realized effort to date. With thick, dense sound recorded by guitarist Violet Eadie and production courtesy of booked-and-busy scene vet Will Killingsworth, this feels like one of the most monumental emo-adjacent records of the year. Not only does this release feel like it accurately captures the qualities I’ve noticed in Kill Gosling after taking in countless gigs, but the whole thing just barely fits under 10 minutes. The band doesn't waste a second, kicking off with a blink-and-you-'ll-miss-it drum fill leading straight into verse one of “Bobby Hobby,” making for a floaty doo-wop-style opener that's in and out with two verses, two choruses, and a solo in less than a minute and a half. 

They don't let up after this, either - highlights include lead single “Cow Tools,” a Far Side-referencing track that, in the same minute and a half, takes a fast punk beat and reflects on friends, sobriety and “talking about the bands we hate” (I’m praying I’m not counted here) before leading into some guitar shredding and screamed vocals. Diversity in vocal performance is one of the biggest upgrades this record brings, from the bratty Billie Joe Armstrong-esque sneers on “Forget” to the chorused, yearning backing tracks on tracks like “Impatient” and “Untitled.” The instrumentals get their time to shine, too - “Forget” sports the tightest rhythm section performances I’ve heard from a rock band all year, and flourishes on “Hobby” and “Selfish” showcase just how talented the group all are individually.  

Despite the modest “normal rock music” tag, Kill Gosling is a band that knows what they’re doing and know how to do it well. With a sound that’s both familiar and hard to quite nail with one description, sometimes it can get hard to explain what exactly you’re in for with them.  Doing my best here, though: Waster is easily one of the best post-hardcore-rock-emo-pop-indie-shoegaze-punk-wave-core records you’re gonna find all year.  

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Rohan Rindani is a writer and musician based in Columbus, OH covering DIY music, non-DIY music, and whatever else they want to, really. They’re also in a few bands. You can send them money, job offers, and praise via email, and look at them on Instagram. You can also find them on Twitter or at a show if you know where to look.

Heavenly Blue – We Have The Answer | Album Review

Secret Voice / Deathwish Inc.

Humanity’s search for an “answer” is a tale as old as time, with the ever-present desire to find meaning in life occupying the thoughts of countless people every day. Despite living in a world where everyone is closely connected through the means of the internet, feelings of isolation are as prevalent as ever, made worse by a global pandemic that was allowed to thrive in a dehumanizing system that continues to grow unabated. On We Have The Answer, Heavenly Blue embodies those feelings of isolation track after track, while the band also offers insight to what might be the only thing that can heal us – building true community.

We Have The Answer is Heavenly Blue’s first full-length release, but it feels much more like a culmination than a debut – in the best possible way. Some of the album’s tracks originated in the band Youth Novel, as detailed in Swim Into The Sound’s recent interview with Heavenly Blue’s guitarist Maya Chun and bassist Jon Riley. The songs here are refined, drawing on a range of 2000s screamo and post-hardcore influences to create something that sounds new and exciting. Fans of bands like Orchid, Funeral Diner, and Pg. 99 will find plenty to enjoy, along with some slightly broader influences like Converge, The Fall of Troy, and Thursday.

These 11 tracks cover a wide range of emotions, balancing chaotic aggression with more melodic sections, often within the same song. A perfect example of this dichotomy is “Certain Distance,” the longest track on the record, which features stretches of light and airy guitar interplay to break up the unrelenting force of the rest of the song. The music is accompanied by poetic lyrics similar in style to the previously mentioned Orchid, serving as one of the lighter songs on the album.

What is this impersonal plea?
I know who I am in a pinch.
I by design shatter, untwine
I stumble back and fall out again
On my own

That song gives way to “Static Voices Speak To Me,” the album’s first single. The track is short and sweet, with a catchy hook that’s rare to come by in the genre and shows the breadth of styles Heavenly Blue is taking inspiration from. It’s easy to picture crowds of screamo kids in basements and small clubs singing along to the chorus here, and the song has a sweetness that stands out amid all the aggression. “Static Voices Speak To Me” is one of the album’s highlights, serving as a stark example of the duality of despair and hope that define these songs.

Heavenly Blue’s rhythm section keeps the record moving swiftly, with the percussion on “A Part Of Me, A Part Of You” standing out as another high point. The song moves at a breakneck pace, with the frenetic drums adding an infectious energy that elevates everything else. Once again, the band straddles the line between melody and discord before transitioning to “Looming,” possibly the heaviest piece on the album. In front of blazingly heavy riffs, the band’s two vocalists take turns belting out lyrics that are fittingly grim.

I'm looming, I'm flaying, I'm hemorrhaging my time
I'm bleeding, flailing, my words all want for knives

Next is the penultimate track of We Have The Answer, “Heat Death Parade.” Here, the band slows things down at first with an intro reminiscent of something you’d hear on City of Caterpillar’s classic 2002 self-titled release. Things continue to build from there, with dual vocalists Juno Parsons and Mel Caren joined by pulsating guitars until the song culminates in a satisfying post-rock zenith. The final track, “All Of The Pieces Break,” picks up where “Heat Death Parade” leaves off, featuring a dreamy guitar melody interrupted by a heavy, repeating riff. This leads to a fittingly energetic finale for the album before it all comes to an abrupt stop.

Mixed and partially recorded by the band’s own Maya Chun, the production on We Have The Answer is clear without sounding overly polished for the genre. With layers of distorted guitar tracks winding in and out of each song, it’s easy to envision how muddled this album could sound. Instead, everything has space to breathe – except for the moments that offer cascading walls of sound as the band builds up to the album’s emotional high points.

Despite the carryovers from Youth Novel, the name change is appropriate, as the finished product sounds very distinct from the band’s previous incarnation. Though they are relatively recent arrivals on the scene, the last several years have seen the band build momentum by playing some higher-profile shows, including opening for Touché Amoré and playing New Friends Fest in 2023. In their short time as a band, Heavenly Blue has built tight bonds with other bands like Frail Body and earned support from names like Touche Amore’s Jeremy Bolm, who runs the Deathwish Inc. imprint Secret Voice, which put out We Have The Answer. The screamo genre seems to be on the rise again, and Heavenly Blue is carving out their position in the latest wave.

In speaking with members of the band and reading past interviews, it’s clear that they’re intent on building or maintaining the community aspect of DIY music. Though the music is often dark, there is still a feeling of hope underneath the surface, tied directly to the band’s focus on that community. The songs on We Have The Answer offer catharsis for the many frustrations of our current social climate, but, as promised, Heavenly Blue offers an answer. Even when music serves as a release for feelings of hopelessness, it creates bonds between people. There are moments of beauty in life, but they only come through building genuine connections with others. Make art, have conversations, and be mindful. We live in bleak times, but through our connections to each other, it is possible to build a better future.

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Nick Miller is a freelance writer from Ypsilanti, Michigan, primarily writing about the world of professional wrestling. He also enjoys playing music, reading, tabletop RPGs, and logging Letterboxd entries (AKA watching movies). You can find him on X at @nickmiller4321 or on Instagram at @nickmiller5678.